


stress relief

by fnkylttlandroid (princessofmind)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Choking, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, M/M, PWP, Praise Kink, a single spank, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 14:12:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15909870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessofmind/pseuds/fnkylttlandroid
Summary: “You didn’t move,” he comments, watching how Gavin’s fingers twitch, the muscles in his thighs tensing, at the sound of his voice.  “Good.”  That’s not always the case.  Sometimes Nines is gone for longer, and sometimes Gavin is less patient, but he must need the praise more than the discipline today; the way he shivers visibly at the single word is indication enough of that.





	stress relief

Nines likes Gavin’s apartment building. It’s neither run down nor upscale, neither too big nor too small, neither too old or too new, neither centrally located to the hustle and bustle of Detroit nor so far out of the city proper that the commute is a nightmare. The construction is mid to late 2010’s (if Nines chooses, he could pull the building code and find out exactly when the apartments were built, but that’s irrelevant) and has a small lobby area, although calling it a lobby is perhaps too generous. There are the elevator bays, the doors to the stairs, the door to the super’s office, and a large row of mailboxes and package lockers on the wall immediately to the right upon entering.

Just beyond the mailboxes, where local businesses and organizations are permitted to hang flyers, is where Nines is standing, leaning against the wall while being careful not to dislodge any of the papers. Currently, there’s an ad for Papa Pesto’s Italian, a restaurant around the corner reopening after they were shut down for health code violations about seven months ago, a flyer for a building-wide rummage sale being held in the parking lot two weeks from today, and a reminder for tenants not to have meal delivery kits sent to their parcel lockers and leave them unattended for extended lengths of time since the super had to break into one of the lockers eight days ago to retrieve a horrendously smelling package forgotten by a couple on the fourth floor who went to Tahiti for three weeks. It’s not really an out of the way place to be standing, and the lobby isn’t like a hotel’s lobby where people can sit and loiter. He sticks out rather obviously, even moreso because of the LED he chose not to remove after the revolution, but he takes no notice of the tenants who give him an odd look on their way to the elevator. Some of them have seen him standing here before and give him a nod on their way up, which he returns courteously.

It’s been approximately 47 minutes since he came downstairs under the guise of “running errands”, although both he and Gavin know that he has no intention of leaving the building, and it will be another 6 before he starts back upstairs. During that 47 minutes, he has run some routine calibrations (which, unlike his predecessor, he doesn’t need a coin to do), replied to half a dozen department emails, and skimmed a coroner’s report they’ve been waiting on for the past day or so. The findings are in line with their suspicions, so nothing to trouble Gavin with immediately, but he does let the coroner know he received the report and thanks her for getting the results back so quickly.

All the while, the timer in the corner of his HUD that began counting down from the moment he left the apartment, has been ticking away steadily. Nines has a perfect sense of time and the passage of it, but he’s found that he likes visual indicators of some processes, especially since some deviant emotions like anticipation can cause that usually perfect sense to fluctuate imperceptibly. This is the sort of thing he won’t allow himself to be incorrect on.

At 53 minutes, Nines straightens and checks the flyers, confirming that none of them have been disturbed before heading to the stairwell. It’s utilitarian, to the point of being sparse, all concrete and chipped paint on metal railings, and his shoes always echo when he climbs them. There are 18 steps in each flight (not counting the landing) meaning he climbs a total of 72 steps before reaching the fourth floor and exits into the carpeted hallway. The carpet is old, and dingy, but Nines can tell that it’s clean by the lack of trace evidence of any kind left behind on it; just the regular wear from having people walking across it every day.

Gavin lives in unit 414, and Niles has the access code stored in his wireless registry that allows him keyless entry into the apartment. It’s not quite been 60 minutes yet, but it’s probably felt like he’s been gone the whole time. The alert in the top left of his HUD hasn’t so much as flickered, though, so he knows Gavin is alright. Untying his shoes, he toes them off and sets them neatly to the side (with a few pointed inches between his dress shoes and the pile of sneakers Gavin leaves by the door) before locking the deadbolt behind him. It clicks, and he hears a shifting sound from the bedroom.

Nines’s LED flickers. There’s another sound of shifting, but louder this time.

Next he removes his jacket, hanging it on the rack, and goes to check Nacho’s bowls to ensure there’s plenty of food and water still in them (he can’t see the siamese cat, but a quick scan confirms that she’s behind the television). Of course, Gavin had diligently filled them when he came home about half an hour before Nines did, but it never hurts to check. Nacho’s eating habits are unpredictable at best.

That kills enough time that when he goes into the bedroom, it’s been sixty minutes on the dot. Closing the door behind him, Nines takes a moment to admire where Gavin is situated in the middle of the bed waiting for him, stripped down and with his hands tied behind his back with the belt Nines had been wearing all day before he took it off to wrap around his wrists. He’s still holding the position Nines put him in before he left, bent over, his ass up in the air, legs spread (they’ve shifted about an inch a piece further apart), his weight resting on his upper body which is cushioned by a few pillows to help support the curve of his body and avoid straining his neck.

“You didn’t move,” he comments, watching how Gavin’s fingers twitch, the muscles in his thighs tensing, at the sound of his voice. “Good.” That’s not always the case. Sometimes Nines is gone for longer, and sometimes Gavin is less patient, but he must need the praise more than the discipline today; the way he shivers visibly at the single word is indication enough of that.

It’s been a long week. The caseload is heavy, and progress has never been a quick or steady thing with humans; two years after the revolution and android-related hate crimes are at all all-time high. Lieutenant Anderson and Detective Anderson are no longer the only human-android team on the force, but all of them, including Nines and Gavin, are covered up at present, and Nines has been watching the line of Gavin’s shoulders grow more and more tense with every dead end they hit and gruesome crime scene they visit. Two days ago, Gavin had stopped him in the parking lot and asked him that if somehow they didn’t end up working overtime during the weekend, if he’d come stay the night and take care of him.

Initially, when they started playing, Gavin was bad at talking out what he wanted, even out of the heat of the moment, but when it became apparent that Nines wasn’t going to play ball, so to speak, without him putting into words what, exactly, he was hoping to do during a scene, he showed marked improvement in a short amount of time. So the day before, he set out everything he wanted Nines to use, and Nines made sure everything was properly charged and where he would want it when the time comes.

That’s why his gloves are sitting out on the dresser, right on the corner closest to the door, so he doesn’t have to go looking for them. Unbuttoning the cuffs of his dress shirt first, he rolls the sleeves up to his elbow, knowing that Gavin will be able to hear the rustle of cloth and picture what he’s doing from his position on the bed, and then slips the gloves on. They’re a soft, supple artificial leather, not quite as good as the real thing but according to Gavin, close enough to make it hard to tell the difference. Nines prefers these because they are easy to clean and won’t be ruined by getting any number of substances, both artificial and organic, all over them.

Approaching the bed, Nines stops at the foot, looking down the expanse of Gavin’s body, the arch of his back, the strong lines of his shoulders, his thick thighs and the muscles in his arms that stand out from the position they’re bent back into. He’s sweating, and while his breathing is even, it’s heavy and noisy, or as noisy as it can be with the ball gag in his mouth. His hair is a mess, but then again, it always is, and that’s hardly worth noticing, although the blush that’s steadily starting to work it’s way down the back of his neck _is_. Gavin is of a very unremarkable skintone, neither pale nor tan, but he blushes so prettily.

Instead of touching his skin, Nines reaches out and pushes on the flat end of the plug resting inside him, his LED flickering as he adjusts the vibrations, changing the pattern and upping the intensity. It’s an ostentatious little thing, at least in Nines’s opinion, white plastic with a blue circuit board design all over it, but Gavin confessed that he bought it because he kinda thought it looked like him, like his chassis under his synthetic skin, and while it’s not quite the correct shade of CyberLife blue, the sentiment was sweet and he couldn’t begrudge him for it. It syncs to his wireless registry and is the most customizable on the market when it comes to intensity and vibration patterns.

The press of his fingers against the flat part of the plug that rests against Gavin’s rim makes the man groan, his hips twitching, but otherwise, he doesn’t move. It Nines does it again, a little harder, grinding the plug into him, and that _does_ get Gavin to move, his cock bobbing swollen between his legs. He’s wearing a cock ring, which is fortunate, because he probably would have come by now without it. There’s already a dark spot on the sheets below his cock, from where he’s started leaking during the time Nines has been gone.

“You’re making a mess,” he says, clicking his tongue before smacking him on the flank, making Gavin jump, a high, surprised noise gurgling in his throat. “I suppose it can’t be helped. You’ll clean it up later.”

Walking around to the side of the bed, Nines grasps Gavin’s hair, using it to pull him into an upright kneeling position so he can move the pillows out of the way. He’s still fully clothed from work, the only things removed being his tie, his belt, and his jacket, and he makes himself comfortable, not paying Gavin any mind as he shifts the pillows so he can comfortably recline, his legs stretched out in front of him.

Of course, he’s only pretending not to pay Gavin any mind, when really he’s looking him over quite thoroughly. The flush he could see on the back of his neck is coloring his cheeks and bleeding all the way down to the top of his chest. His lips are red where they’re stretched around the black silicon of the ball gag, his chin and left cheek damp from where he’d been unable to keep himself from drooling at a point, and his eyes are unfocused, but he’s clearly still present, his cock twitching in apparent desire from the picture Nines makes lounging in his bed, looking at him with silky indifference.

Folding his hands together on his stomach, Nines admires Gavin for a moment, LED flickering as he shifts the vibrations from staccato little pulses to a steady buzz, feeling a surge of satisfaction when Gavin shudders, his lashes drooping, his hips thrusting forward in search of friction that simply isn’t there. He always finds Gavin appealing to look at in some shape, form, or fashion, but he really is stunning right now.

Slowly, he unbuttons and unzips his trousers, not quite making a show of it but definitely not in any kind of hurry, tugging the material down enough to make it easy to pull his cock out through the slit in his briefs. Tonight, he’s wearing the attachment Gavin prefers when he’s giving oral; it’s a little more slender, a little shorter, a little more pliable than the one he likes when he’s getting fucked (that attachment is punishingly thick, with a wicked curve and a lot less give, almost artificial in its composition but exactly what Gavin wants).

Reaching out, he grabs Gavin by the chin and tugs him in, close enough that he can unbuckle the gag and slip it out of his mouth. Gavin sucks in a few deep, unobstructed breaths, working his jaw to try and rid himself of the phantom sensation that’s still lodged between his teeth. Nines, in a generous mood, lets him have a few seconds to do so, and even though the alert in the corner of his HUD is still dark, this is the last chance Gavin will have his mouth free for a while, so he wants to check in.

“Color?” he asks, setting the ball gag aside on the bedside table to be cleaned and put away later.

“Green,” Gavin answers, his voice hoarse and rough with disuse, but it doesn’t shake.

“Where’s your button?” he continues, and Nines can see the muscles in his arm shift as he squeezes the little device nestled firmly in his hand. It’s a convenient little thing, a thick bit of plastic roughly the size of a postage stamp that Gavin can squeeze, triggering a bright, flashing red alert in his HUD should he need to tap out and his mouth is otherwise occupied. Like the other items in use, it’s connected to his wireless network, and it can reach him down in the lobby, so he can come back up and let him out of his restraints should he need to during their little waiting game.

When Gavin squeezes, the red alert flickers in his HUD, but only long enough for him to see and reassure Nines that it’s there. “Good,” he says, getting his fingers back into Gavin’s hair, tugging him closer, pinching his chin between his thumb and forefinger and pulling his mouth open. His lips are red, and he’s struggling to keep his tongue in his mouth when Nines manhandles him like that, forcing his mouth open wide, as wide as he can. He isn’t really sure why, but he enjoys looking at Gavin’s mouth like this; his teeth are the kind of straight you can only get from extensive orthodontics, his tongue a lovely shade of pink, and no matter how much he may drool, his mouth is always enticingly moist. Nines has no natural lubrication of his own in his mouth, so perhaps that’s why he finds it so alluring.

Maintaining his hold on Gavin’s jaw, he slips two of his gloved fingers into his mouth, pressing against his tongue, probing along the inside of his cheeks, keeping him opened wide as he does so. Gavin is panting, slurping as he tries to rub his tongue against the leather, but Nines presses his tongue back down whenever he tries to move. “You look nice like this,” he comments idly, catching his tongue between his two fingers. “There are so many better things for you to do with your mouth than what you usually choose.”

He lets go of Gavin’s jaw, letting him close his mouth and suck on his fingers. Of course, he can’t really feel it through the leather, but Gavin likes the way it tastes, the way it smells, the way it feels against his tongue, and that much is obvious by the enthusiastic way he’s working them, laving his tongue over the tips of his fingers, sucking as hard as he can so Nines *can* feel something. Absently, his other hand cards through his hair, tugging on the strands as he adjusts the vibrations in his plug, making Gavin moan brokenly around the digits in his mouth.

Tightening his grip in Gavin’s hair, he holds him in place as he draws his fingers out, rubbing the damp leather over Gavin’s nipples, pinching and tugging on them until he’s shaking, and then brushing them down, combing through the sparse hair on his chest and leading down from his navel to his cock, but he doesn’t touch him where he so clearly wants to be touched.

Instead, he manhandles Gavin over, adjusting their positions so Gavin is laying across his thighs on his side, his head pillowed on Nines’s thigh, his body facing towards him, curved towards him a little so Nines can still reach the lower half of his body without issue. Reaching down, he grasps the plug, pulling it almost all the way out before pushing it back in, twisting it as he goes. Gavin jolts, pressing his face against the material of his slacks as he wheezes, hips bucking, but Nines doesn’t offer him any contact on his dick. Not yet.

With his left hand still in Gavin’s hair, holding him in place, Nines wraps his fingers around his own length, rubbing it against Gavin’s cheek, brushing over his parted, panting lips but not going any further than that. Gavin is whining, a high pitched, pleading kind of sound, and his tongue flicks out, reaching towards his cock, but Nines tightens his grip, hauling him back a little, enough that he can’t reach.

“Do you want something?” he asks, thankful that his voice is still fully modulated so he can sound indifferent, even though he’s anything but with Gavin looking at him with his tongue hanging out, eyes glazed.

He tries to nod, but Nines doesn’t let him move his head. He tries to lean forward, but again, he doesn’t let him move. Gavin’s mouth moves, like he’s trying so hard to find the words but can’t, so Nines jostles him, shoving his dick against his face and holding him there for several moments before pulling him away.

“Please,” Gavin manages to say this time. “Lemme suck your cock.”

The sound Nines makes is suspiciously close to a purr, and he’s not entirely sure why such a sound is in his programming, but regardless, Gavin likes it, shivering from head to toe as he’s guided back to his dick, but this time, Nines lets him part his lips and take him into his mouth. With his arms still tied behind his back, Nines is responsible for helping him keep his balance since he doesn’t want him to take him all the way (yet), so he moves his hand from Gavin’s hair to his neck, cupping him there and supporting his head, keeping him so he can only take about half his length into his mouth.

It may only be half, but Gavin is mouthing at him like it’s everything he’s ever wanted, sucking and twirling his tongue over the head, pressing against the slit. His technique is inelegant, but eager, his eyes slowly closing as those pretty red lips press tight to his pale skin. It’s a sight that Nines is intimately familiar with, but every time it makes him feel like there’s something dangerously hot running through his circuitry, his LED flickering to yellow for a few long pulses before stutering back to blue. Gavin’s mouth is so hot and damp, and he likes the way he’s so overeager that his teeth scrape against the underside; since his dick is an unnecessary attachment part, his system doesn’t recognize the brush of teeth as painful, but rather an especially sharp spark of pure sensation.

Leaving Gavin to it, Nines instead turns his attention to the bedside table. There’s a bottle of water based lubricant sitting within arm’s reach, as well as a thick, textured, silicone sleeve. It’s see through, and while Gavin had initially called it a fleshlight, Nines hadn’t been able to take it seriously (it sounds like flashlight, it’s a separate word of course he realizes but in Gavin’s lazy drawl it sounded like flashlight), so he usually opts to call it a stroker. According to the packaging, it’s supposed to simulate oral sex, but his own brief exploration of the toy showed that it wasn’t really a comparable sensation, but pleasant all the same.

Shifting his hand to let Gavin take a little more of his length into his mouth, Nines picks up the lubrication and puts several pumps worth into the stroker, squeezing it a few times to help distribute the slick, and then adds a little more. Gavin likes things messy, after all. Leaving the thing on the bedside table, he pumps a small amount of lube into his palm and reaches between Gavin’s legs, stroking him a couple times with the express purpose of slicking him up, but it still has him writhing, his body clenching visibly around the plug as he chases the contact of his hand, but he doesn’t give it to him. Instead, he wipes his hand on Gavin’s thigh, picks up the stroker, and pushes it down over Gavin’s dick in one smooth movement.

That has him jerking, his hips kicking forward as his toes curl against the sheets, his head moving even with Nines’s hand holding his neck and he gags on the length in his mouth. Nines holds the stroker in place, the bottom of it flush with Gavin’s pelvis, and since Gavin is already gagging, he pushes himself a little deeper. “Work through it,” he says, an uneven edge to his voice, and Gavin struggles, chest heaving, throat spasming against the thick length of him, the alert in his HUD doesn’t light up, and slowly, torturously slowly, he relaxes, swallowing around his cock as he slowly starts sucking again.

“Good, that was good,” he murmurs, thumb brushing back and forth over Gavin’s neck as he pulls him up a little, pressing his dick against the inside of his cheek, watching the way it makes the rough skin distend a little over the shape of him. Gavin whimpers, his hips twitching in response to his words, and when he manages to open his eyes, they’re bottomless, needy, tears clinging to his lashes and streaking down the side of his face unevenly.

Nines shifts his hold, pushing Gavin back down, choking him on his dick as he slips down his throat, rocking his hips as he starts moving the stroker as well. It makes a lewd, wet sound every time it meets his pelvis, and Nines is merciless, knowing that Gavin isn’t coming until he’s damn well and ready to let him, so he strokes him in hard, short little strokes that make Gavin groan and writhe, and while it’s hard to tell if he’s trying to push into the contact or squirm away, he hasn’t told him that he needs to stop, so he doesn’t.

Adjusting Gavin’s position, Nines fucks his throat in long, slow pushes of his hips, savoring every time Gavin chokes and gags on him, tightening around him deliciously, and he can feel spit dripping down his length, making a mess of Gavin’s face. The sounds he’s making, scarce at first, are rising in volume, almost eclipsing the damp sound of his mouth and the motion of silicone over his dick, and honestly, if not for the fact that Gavin needs to come at some point, Nines could do this forever.

But he can only ignore the heat pooling in his stomach for so long, and Gavin’s chest has started hitching as he begins to cry in earnest, fucking into the stroker without any semblance of rhythm, and he’s such a gorgeous mess in Nines’s lap, sucking his cock like he was made to do it, like it’s his job, that he doesn’t bother trying to hold off his own impending orgasm. Holding Gavin with his nose against his stomach, every last inch of his dick stuffed down his throat, Nines lets himself go, his orgasm climbing up from his toes and spiderwebbing through his circuits, singing him, lighting up every LED in his system and making them flicker white with overload.

He’s stopped moving the stroker, and while he’s aware that the alert isn’t going off, he did lose himself to his own release for a moment, and he gathers himself quickly, supporting Gavin’s head but no longer holding him in place. Gavin doesn’t try and move, though; he stays where he is, about half of Nines’s cock in his mouth, no longer sucking but just holding him there as he looks up at him.

“Good boy,” Nines sighs, moving the stroker back enough that he can unfasten Gavin’s cock ring, and then he’s moving it again, an almost imperceptable smile tugging at his lips as he turns the vibrations up on the plug just shy of the most Gavin can take, making the man cry out jerk his hips, shoulders straining like he wants to reach out and touch him but he can’t.

“Fuck, Nines, fuck, fuck, _fuck_ -”

Nines shoves three of his fingers back into his mouth since clearly he doesn’t need to be supporting his head anymore, and Gavin shakes apart, his hips twisting and bucking so hard that if Nines wasn’t an android, he’d seriously struggle to keep him in place. As it is, though, he’s able to angle his arm to keep him pinned as he keeps moving the stroker over him, milking his orgasm out for as long as he can until he’s sobbing around his fingers and trying to move away.

There’s a tiny flicker of red in the corner of his vision. Not a full alarm, but a warning. Too much. So he slows down, dialing the intensity of the plug down as well until he can turn it off completely, no longer moving his hand but just holding the silicone sleeve in place where it’s wrapped around Gavin’s softening length. Gavin lays across his legs still, panting for breath, a few more tears trailing down his cheeks, but his expression is fucked out and blissful, the lines of his body completely relaxed for all that he still occasionally shivers. That had been a long, intense orgasm after all.

Nines doesn’t move beyond stroking his fingers through Gavin’s hair, giving the man time and space to come back to himself.

“M’thirsty,” he eventually mumbles.

“Are you okay with me getting up to get the water?” he asks, which he suspects Gavin is; he doesn’t usually ask for anything until he’s okay with Nine getting up, no matter how short a time he may be gone.

True to his suspicions, Gavin nods. Before getting up, though, Nines goes about the careful process of setting Gavin to rights. The stroker is the easiest thing to set aside, which he does promptly, and he puts the cock ring next to it as well. Shifting Gavin’s position a little, he works the plug out of him, rubbing the small of his back when he hisses, clearly oversensitive. Next, he removes the belt from his wrists, moving first one arm and then the other back around to the front of his body, gently massaging his fingers once he’s done so.

“Any numbness or tingling?” he asks, and when Gavin shakes his head, he kisses both his hands before slipping out from under him. Gathering the toys, he deposits them in the kitchen sink to soak (those items that can be soaked, that is; he briskly washes the plug in hot water and soap before setting it aside) before getting a bottle of water from the fridge and a towel from the linen closet.

When he goes back into the bedroom, Gavin is almost exactly how he left him, but his arms are stretched out in front of him, fingers tapping against the headboard idly. “Here,” Nines says, offering the water to Gavin, who sits up slowly, still looking a bit dazed. As he slowly sips from the bottle, Nines gets a few body wipes from the container under the bed and uses them to briskly but carefully clean Gavin off. The towel is used to pat him dry afterwards.

By that point, Gavin is about halfway through his bottle of water. “How do you want me?” Nines asks.

“Naked,” Gavin answers, which earns him an unimpressed look. “And back where you were, like, sitting up.”

Well, the naked bit is a fair request, and Nines will deal with taking his attachment off later. For now, he’s content to strip down to his underwear and obediently sit back down where he just was. Gavin grabs the covers from where they’d pushed them down to the end of the bed, pulling them up with him as he settles with his head in Nines’s lap, his face towards his stomach, and he lets out a content sigh as Nines starts stroking his fingers through his hair again, his other hand slipping under the blanket to rest against his side, thumb idly stroking over his skin.

“Feel better?” he asks. Nines asks a lot of questions in these situations, but well, he’s supposed to.

“Much better,” Gavin replies, cracking his eyes open to look up at Nines. His entire countenance seems more relaxed now, his expression open and without irritation or anger or concern, something Nines doesn’t see very often even given their relationship. “Thanks.”

“No, thank you,” Nines replies, his nails lightly scratching against Gavin’s scalp in a way that has him melting. Since he probably can’t be assed to move too much at present, Gavin leans forward to kiss his stomach, the contact slightly ticklish due to the rough texture of his stubble. He mouths something against his inhumanly perfect skin, and if Nines weren’t an android, he probably wouldn’t be able to make out the words. But it’s only two, and Nines _is_ an android, so he traces three words worth of letters against Gavin’s back and pretends like the human hasn’t figured out how to read him too.

**Author's Note:**

> i may or may not have discovered a few new kinks of mine during the process of writing this, FUN
> 
> follow me over on twitter jericho @fnkylttlandroid


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